Sectumsempra: A Straitjacket Feeling
by Arcada A
Summary: HarryDraco. A different viewpoint on what could have happened in book six, chapter twentyfour, entitled Sectumsempra. Revelations and true feelings finally surface.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or any related indicia. The first two paragraphs are straight from the book, located on page 488, paragraph three. J.K. Rowling is the rightful owner of the series. Many blessings to her.

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"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't… tell me what's wrong… I can help you…"

"No one can help me," said Draco. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it… I can't… it won't work… and unless I do it soon… He says he'll kill me…"

Harry, who'd been listening in, realized that Malfoy, _Draco_ Malfoy was crying, actually _crying_. A cold chill swept through him instantly numbing him to the core of his soul. Shock overcame him as did curiosity, he pushed open the door, a small creek emitting from the rusted hinges.

Inwardly he winced, _had Malfoy heard him? _he stepped inside, wrapping the invisibility cloak even tighter around his lithe body.

Due to the blondes choking sobs, he hadn't noticed the door opening or even the dissonant creaky noise.

Draco closed glistening silver orbs, grasping the stone basin-like sink even tighter in his ethereal state. Pale hands shook uncontrollably, while white knuckles turned a sickening shade of blue.

Tears welled from saddened Mercury eyes, Malfoy had no idea has was tearing apart Harry's heart. Trying to salvage himself, Harry moved forwards, slowly reaching out his hand, fingers nervously shaking in fear and anxiety. Harry had always wondered if Draco's skin felt as smooth as it looked.

Emerald eyes turned wider by the second as Harry processed his last thought. His outstretched hand froze in mid-air, straining his arm to an awkward position. _What exactly was he thinking? _Malfoy was the enemy! A pang of guilt stuck harshly, who would be able to resist the overwhelming urges to take pity on the Slytherin in his current form?

As is realizing his thoughts Harry shook his head, ebony hair was mussed in the process. The disheveled teen glared at himself. What was he thinking taking pity on the blond? Malfoy would never allow his pride to take that, what he needed was comfort not pity. What were these odd feelings and occurrences welling inside him like a potion, to disturb his emotions, until the pain made his heart want to stop beating? He closed his eyes, confused, he had never really had much experience with these kinds of feelings.

_He had liked Cho Chang_.

Although, Harry felt that was purely for the sake of her being exotic, having long lashes, and using her womanly wiles on him. He had never understood exactly what he liked about her, save for the fact that she was appealing to the senses. She was pretty much a ditz, and borderline paranoid, he added as an afterthought.

Pushing his feelings aside, he gently placed his hand over Draco's, who in turn jumped at the sudden application of warm pressure on his knuckles. He jerked back hurriedly, eyes searching for another being besides Myrtle, who whipped her head from side to side in an apprehensive fashion. Her pigtails whipping her ghostly figure. Harry was knocked out of his reverie non-too-pleasantly. His imagination had been running overtime what with the warmth that crept through him when his hand had clasped around Draco's.

"Draco?" Moaning Myrtle muttered sullenly, noticing the blond losing interest in her again as he unsuccessfully looked around for the culprit.

Upon hearing his name, he whipped his head towards Myrtle, who simply stared in confusion at the pure-blooded wizard.

Harry sensing the perplexity of the situation, dropped the cloak, appearing as if from thin air, taking the two other occupants of the feminine hygiene unit by alarm. Not taking his eyes away from the adonian male in front of him, Harry stepped forwards toward Draco.

Jerkily, Draco stepped back, bumping into the murky mirror by the sink. A dazed look flirted with his facial features, as if he himself was watching the whole scene unfold from a movie-goers perspective. Unsure of the raven-haired beauty coming ever closer to him, Draco instinctively whipped out his wand.

A wavering, shaky voice softly spoke, with the odd hiccough adding dissonance every now and then.

"I… I'm w-warning you! Get ba-ack! I said to… move _back_!" His voice gained confidence as he continued to speak. Inwardly he wonder if should let Harry take care of him now, or let Voldemort give him a more torturous, painful death.

Weighing the options, he would preferably take Harry over Voldemort any day.

Harry cautiously took a step forward, taking careful notice of Draco's response. When no bright lights or glittery streams were shot at him, he stepped forwards assertively, knowing whatever had Malfoy wigged was to be taken seriously.

Malfoy's hand vacillated unintentionally, his hand dropping unknowingly. Truth was, he just wasn't up to it. In fact the only reason he'd taken a disliking to the boy-who-lived was because he had refused Draco's friendship before first year had even started. How was he to know he would harbor feelings other than annoyance for the Potter orphan.

The whites of Draco's eyes severely outnumbered the amount of space his pupils were left with, giving him the impression of a loon.

"What… do you want?" He asked testily, he was still unsure of the situation.

Harry frowned, his body nearly a foot from Draco's. The heat radiated off from the aristocratic male, Harry barely noticed the daggers Myrtle sent in his direction.

"I want… you?" Harry's voice rose several octaves, making him sound as if he was going through puberty all over again.

"Wh…what?" Malfoy spluttered in confusion.

Joy welled up in chest, as a pair of hands encircled his. The shorter, dark haired male smiled warmly. Draco, uncertain of Harry's intentions squashed his hopes, pulling out of the comfort, not knowing Harry had taken his wand out of his hands, letting it drop to the floor with hardly a sound.

Harry, who slowly drew Draco into the warmth of his body in the form of a hug was ecstatic as the vulnerable Malfoy heir basically clung to him.

Myrtle floated, half angry, half-awed, that the two could even stand to be in the same room were currently embraced in a friendly hug. She smiled, unsure of the outcome as the two enigma's comforted each other in the most unusual of ways. Noticing the tension in the air, she moved back to her cubicle, feeling herself grow warm as she watched from overhead of the stall. After all, this was her washroom, and she wanted front row tickets if there would be any action.

Partially lidded eyes closed completely, as Draco leaned into the crook of Harry's neck, drawing a blanket of heat upon himself and Harry. Said boy rubbed calming, soothing circles on the blondes back to calm him, but mostly to comfort the boy.

In slow motion, Draco realized his actions, as his stomach twisted into a knot of confusion. He abruptly pulled away from Harry in one swift movement. Harry's face curved into disappointment as did Myrtles, and just when things were getting turned up a notch too, scowled the latter.

Draco's silver orbs rounded on Harry in a paranoid manner. His Slytherin mask fell into place almost automatically. He backed himself even further into the small fissure of space between the two sinks on either side of him. He was quite literally backed into a wall, and he did not like the feeling of being cornered.

Taking an uncharacteristic step away from his usual submissive self, Harry simply moved to Draco, letting the heat resonate from the proximity of their bodies guide him as he gently kissed Draco in an uncertain aspect. He was reassured of his actions as Draco leaned forwards into the tongue tango, wanting comfort from the smaller Gryffindor.

For once, things seemed to be going just fine.


End file.
